


Valmir the Mage III

by Le_Flambeau



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Altmer - Freeform, AnVil, M/M, Mages Guild, Meridia - Freeform, Orc, Orsimer - Freeform, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 01:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Flambeau/pseuds/Le_Flambeau
Summary: Valmir searches for a cure for vampirism!Takes place after the Oblivion Crisis, 4E 7 approx.Trying to get the lore straight, but I focus on the story. :)





	Valmir the Mage III

1.

The road to Anvil was long, and winding. The forests were deep, mist drifted through the trees and over the road. Sometimes the road disappeared like behind a shroud. If it did not rain, it drizzled. Valmir rested at inns along the road. Some he had visited before, others not. He changed horse outside the gates of Skingrad and continued on, tiring from the long ride.

He reached Anvil sore and with a growing headache, stumbling out of the saddle by the stables. He took his bags and went through the city gate. It was mid-afternoon but felt like in the middle of the night. Moving across the square he entered the Guildhall, asking for some lodgings over the night. Without washing he lay down in bed and fell asleep.

Late morning sunshine woke him. A young Orc was looking in through the half-open door, but she disappeared quickly. Valmir smelled of horse and wet wool. He sat up with a yawn, pulling hair from his face. Standing up he looked out the window. The main square was busy with peddlers and merchants. He struggled to find a clean shirt and a pair of trousers and went to clean himself. The facilities were basic. Then he left his whole riding attire with a maid to be cleaned. She was eager to make some gold. 

“Excuse me.” He jerked, having dully looked at the backyard for a while. “I was sent to see if we could help you with something.” It was the Orc.

“Help?” He asked. “Oh. I have been here…before.” He had lodged at the garrison with the Legion, and Mallus.

”Oh.” She said. She had a slightly deeper voice than he imagined. Like a boy that was not a man yet. Looked to be more in line for the Fighters Guild. She had a greenish colour, like a pale ash leaf, grey eyes and dark hair in a comfortable knot at the back of her head.

“Who are you?”

“Atab gra-Rimph.” He gave up a faint smile, seeing her sink from his gaze.

“Apprentice?”

“Just recently.” He nodded. She probably swept the floors, picked herbs. He remembered doing that.

“I…” He began. “I seek a cure. For vampirism.” He said. Her eyes went wide. “Talk to your masters. I will be in the library.” She nodded slowly and went away. Valmir moved inside and to the bookshelves. Perhaps there was a dusty old tome here somewhere. He sat down listing through some candidates, but gave up after a few hours. It seemed restoring a vampire was looked upon like restoring a dead body. Necromancy. Which was forbidden in the Guild.

“Magician?” He looked up from a copy on The Doors to Oblivion. “I am Carahil.” He rose. She was an Altmer too, about his height.

“I am Valmir.” He said, eyeing her.

“I hear you are looking for a cure to vampirism. It is a fruitless quest. Especially here. It is restoration we focus on, not healing the dead.”

“It is a disease. Surely you seek to cure such here?” He asked. 

“Is it someone you know that has been afflicted perhaps? Then I am sorry, but the most definite cure will be to simply end the vampire. So it does not spread further.” 

“So you… refuse to help me?”

“If we had any information, I would give it. Alas we do not. You should seek help at the Temple.” She said. He shrugged angrily, but knew that it was the truth. It hurt.

“I will leave tomorrow.” He said, running his hand along the back of the book. “I have matters elsewhere.”

“You are welcome to our supplies.” She said. He nodded, watched her leave. Atab tried to hustle away too but he stopped her, making her jerk.

“Another thing.” He said. 

“Yes?”

“I seek the Shrine of Meridia. Go through all books and scrolls this Guild has on the subject. Consult the maps, perhaps ask the Guard. I want to know where it is.” She looked at him as if not believing him, then nodded. He walked out on the street, taking a deep breath. He walked the short distance to the Count’s Arms and bought a pair of bottles with liquor. Finding a quiet corner he sat down to drink. 

2\. 

By morning there was little more than half a bottle left. It stood where he had placed it, on the small table in his room. He saw it slightly blurry, scratched his stubble and reached for the pitcher of water by his bed. He drank half of it. There was a knock. It was Atab. She looked a bit tired. Tried not to stare. It made him ashamed of himself.

Perhaps he was spent, like everyone claimed. Perhaps a year in quiet study at the University would do him good. They had not managed to ward Mallus, he had not had the fortitude to shelter Rurane either. Perhaps he should have turned the Guard and Guild his back and just pursued some high paying commissions as a Battlemage somewhere far away, alone. 

“West of Skingrad there is an Ayleid well. A patrolling guard knew that somewhere north west of it, there was a shine to Meridia.” Valmir bent down to pull his map up.

“Show me.” He said, sitting up in bed. She sat down, pointed at the map, and he placed a marker there. “Thank you.” He said.

“You will need a piece of something undead to summon her.” She said. “One of the sailors told me so.” Valmir looked at her. He had forgotten that the ocean was around the corner. He looked away for a moment; he would have to get something undead on the way…

“I will find… something.” He said tiredly. “Do you wish to meet the Lady of Infinite Energies?” He asked, a small smirk on his face. He could enjoy some company on the road.

“Me?” She hicked. “Why?” He shrugged.

“No reason.” He said silently. “Company perhaps.” He glanced at her, frowning at her look. “Not like that.” He sighed, watching her blush.

“I should speak about this with Carahil.” Atab said, rising. He nodded, watched her leave. Packed his things and dressed in his robe and riding gear again. They were clean. He left the book, having read it, and walked down the stairs, fighting his headache. “I made some breakfast.” Atab said, as she searched or Carahil. Valmir nodded, walked into a small dining room and gratefully ate some porridge and eggs with a cup of hot tea. It cleared his mind somewhat.

“You wish to borrow Atab?” Carahil asked. He looked up, nodded. “Well, I have no concerns regarding that. And we have no great labours here that the maids cannot take care of.”

“Very well.” He said, rising. “I will wait at the stables.” Taking his saddlebags he passed by to restock the supplies and then went outside. It was grey, overcast, but dry. He saddled his horse, stroking its muzzle whilst waiting. Atab came hurrying; she had a knapsack of things. It was fine; she was not in the habit of campaigning.

“I have some coin for a horse.” She said. He held up a hand.

“You buy the food. Plan that and I will take care of the horses.” He nodded at another saddled horse. “You ride?”

“I grew up on a farm outside town.” She said. He nodded, saddled up. “Do you think we will sleep in Kvatch?”

“Let us try.” He said. They spoke a little after that. Somehow they had rebuilt some of Kvatch. People were living there again. They took in at a newly built inn and took a two bed room. They even ate a full supper. It made him feel almost normal after the hangover.

“Was there a guild here too?” Atab wondered. He nodded. “To think it could all burn down like that.”

“With enough magic potions… I could burn a town down. Luckily people are not crazy like that.” Valmir said. She nodded solemnly. “Perhaps men, certainly not mer like us.” She looked wide eyed at him. “Could you pick up all three kinds of potions for us at the shop? I will go early to sleep, I think.” He said. She nodded, walking away.

3.

“The spring rains are… refreshing.” Atab said slowly. Both she and Valmir were drenched from the showers passing by them. He gave her a look.

“Certainly, they are. For the crops.” He looked about the forest, drying water from his brow. They had turned off the road by the Ayelid well. Valmir had dismounted, replenishing his magic in the mysterious blue glow of the well before riding out into the wilderness. All he needed was Dawnbreaker… Then he would continue to every Guildhall he knew to ask for a cure. His heart twisted when he thought about having to use it on Rurane. His best shot had been Anvil, perhaps his only shot.

“So… who is the cure for?” Atab asked cautiously. He looked at her. “Not you I see.”

“A member of the City Guard in the Imperial City. My, uh, friend.” She nodded and rode off up on a nearby hill, she looked at her compass and pointed northwest. Valmir continued to ride that way. By afternoon he found a rock jutting out of the landscape, creating a roof. “We should make camp, a better opportunity will not present itself.” He said and rode off towards it.

Sheltering their horses they made a fire. Valmir volunteered to go fetch water from a nearby brook. He was about to head back when he heard a high-pitched cry. Instantly he dropped the bucket, whirring about to find three eyes gleaming on the other side of the brook. Then there were six. Trolls. They stood up on their hind legs and rushed at him.

Valmir cast two fireballs from his hands instantly, slowing them down as they cried loudly. Stomping their feet and huge arms they snarled at him and lunged again. Having readied another, more powerful fire-spell Valmir unleashed it and jumped aside. One of the trolls fled, burning, into the forest. Another fireball hit the second Troll.

Valmir glanced sideways too see Atab, scared for her life and pale as a sheet behind a tree. It gave him an opening to create yet another scorching flame of fire and he aimed carefully, blasting the Troll in its face, blinding it by burning its eyes out. He moved aside as it hit the ground and moved closer to Atab. There was a rumbling in the twilight forest, and a light came closer. It was the burning Troll. Valmir threw up a ward with his hand and drew Atab to himself. The lesser area he had to protect, the more powerful the ward would be. 

The Troll hit the shimmering ward head on and fell to the side, skull crushed from his own speed. Valmir was thrown back from the force, landing by a tree behind them. His head was spinning. He breathed, trying to concentrate. He heard Atab throw some fireballs, at the other Troll perhaps. As it became quiet, all he could hear was the drip and drop of the rain through the trees. It was getting dark and misty. Atab helped him up and back to camp, with the bucket in her other hand.

“Good work.” He said as he sunk down by the fire.

“Two trolls!” She said.

“Lucky us. We’ll look them over in the morning.” He said.

4\. 

“A few years of training and you will throw spells like that too.” Valmir said. They had left the dead trolls, taking some of their fat. Following a small path in the woods they soon came across their lair. It was riddled with bones. Valmir glanced at Atab. “Look away.” He said slowly and waited for her to do so. Then he threw a weak reanimation spell at one particularly intact skeleton. He allowed it to rise before he quickly dispatched it, picking up some of the bones.

“You did not just…” She said.

“No. But now we have the bones for the shrine.” He said, offering a small prayer for the dead to rest in peace after their visit, and saddled up again.

“I see.” She said. He nodded. It had stopped raining thankfully. Some hour later he climbed a tree, receiving dubious glances from Atab as to his heritage of being pure Altmer and not a Bosmer. The forest stretched around them with some open clearings and fields. There was a small winding trail of smoke rising from a patch of trees in front of them and he pointed it out to Atab, who took their bearings as he descended and they continued on.

It was indeed the shrine, the statue of Meridia looming above them. There were a few strange people about, devotees most certainly. Valmir gave them but a glance and walked up to the base of the shrine. Now, he had never tried to communicate with divinities before, but somehow his concern minded him less than usual. He placed the bones on the shrine and crushed them with the heel of his boot. Atab stood quietly by the side, looking at him.

“I seek an audience.” He said.

“By the detritus of the profane I am brought forth.” Came the resounding answer. “Why do you seek Meridia?”

“To ask to borrow your Dawnbreaker, Meridia. A vampire lord almost unleashed a horde of vampires upon the Imperial City. They were slain but he escaped. I know where he is, but I do not yet possess strength enough of my own to kill him. I seek your assistance in this. Grant me your sword so that I may end him. Afterwards it shall be yours again.”

“The undead are foul and unnatural things and I do not object to them being destroyed. But you shall have to prove your worth to me. I must know you are strong enough for this. How would you do that?”

“I am the mage who led the charge into the Warlock’s Mouth Cave at Tenadiril and the necromancers there.” He said and pulled his collar down to reveal the bite. “They are all destroyed, and I paid a heavy price, but survived. That, if something should prove my worth. I will kill the vampire lord or die trying.”

“I see you are strong in your conviction, tempered by loss into steel, no doubt. It will do. It is agreed that you may borrow Dawnbreaker to rid Tamriel of this pest before it spreads again. Once that is done I will have it returned to me. Go with my blessing mortal.” Valmir stood still as a small light appeared by him. It grew until he saw it was the hilt of the sword. He took it and felt the weight in his hand as the light faded. The sword was in a white sheath with inlaid gold decorations. He pulled the blade out a bit and saw the light still at the hilt, shining. 

“Oohh…” Atab said, eyeing the sword with glittering eyes. “Vampire lord? You said nothing of this to Carahil.” He shrugged, looked about. The worshippers were looking at him. Were they waiting for gifts to fall into their hands? He raised his eyebrows at them, leaving them without words.

5.

Skingrad loomed before them two days later. Valmir was going for the Guild, but Atab graciously informed him that they needed to eat and he agreed. The West Weald Inn served their purpose and they had some onion soup, dry pork and wine.

“You flush green.” He said, chuckling.

“You get kinda peachy looking. Rosy-orange like.” She chuckled back.

“Do I really?” He asked, touching his chin. It was almost a beard on it. He looked at himself in a brass mirror. Again his clothes were stained with mud and dust. It would make a good disguise, his military mind said. He could put leaves in his hair and live like a wildling Bosmer. They paid for themselves and left, receiving tiny lodgings at the Guild hall.

There was a great interest in Dawnbreaker and the resident mages gathered round to look at it. Some were a bit interested in how he had acquired it, but he simply told them that he had asked Meridia for help. Some asked what it was for. He simply told them that it was a nest of vampires that needed cleansing. Nobody knew anything about a cure for vampirism either. Someone in Kvatch had known, before it burnt down, but not anymore.

Valmir retired after cleaning himself properly, washing his hair and body from the grime of the road. Then he sent his clothes off for cleaning again and lay down to sleep. He felt strange as he slept, and woke sitting. Shaking his head he found his hands bound behind his back. Frowning he looked about.

“What is this?” He growled, noticing an Argonian lurking behind himself. He was in some kind of cellar. No windows, but the silence of a tomb. Decorated with gobelains and carpets of expensive taste. Valmir had no understanding of where he was. 

“Awake?” The Argonian rattled. “My master takes a keen interest in folk claiming to be out to kill vampires, especially those armed with beautiful blades like this…” Valmir noticed the sheath of Dawnbreaker in the corner of his eye. For a moment he saw the shimmer of sunlight at the hilt. It was beautiful.

“It was given to me.” Valmir said slowly.

“You also seek the cure.” The Argonian continued. 

“If you know something tell me.” Valmir said. He was getting… irritated.

“You are already marked by another vampire.” A voice said. Valmir jumped, looking about. Suddenly there was another man next to him. A pair of fingers bending his head to the left to reveal the bite-marks on his right side.

“Tell me what vampire nest is it that you seek to eliminate?”

“Well obviously not this one.” Valmir growled. “Release me.” He tried turning. “Who are you?” He saw it was a man.

“And the cure?”

“A friend!” He said angrily, stomping his feet on the stone floor.

“Please.” The man said, and Valmir felt his arms being released. “We must be cautious, you must understand. It is not often some mer wanders in with Dawnbreaker into Skingrad.” Valmir got up, turned and looked at his captors. “A friend who bit you? A close friend then.”

“You… are a… noble?” Valmir asked. “The count?” For a moment he stared. “You… you are a…” For a moment he looked at Dawnbreaker. “I see. You thought I was coming for you.” He sighed. “Not for you. I would have been a bit more… low-profiled were I here for you.” The count nodded.

“I will tell you what I told the Hero of Kvatch. There is a witch, she lives in Drakelowe, by the Corbolo River. She helped cure my… wife. Gave her a decent death, as she refused to live like… this.” The Count looked away. Valmir sighed.

“How did you… live after that? I mean, going on when your life feels like an… empty bowl?”

“Duty, as a Count. Later you find other pleasures, distractions. If one may call them that.” Valmir thought of Rurane, perhaps he was a distraction. But he had asked his for help. And it was Valmir’s duty to help. He had even studied restoration for six months together with Elenwen before finding himself more comfortable with destruction. He had never dwelt on why.

“The Guild claims there is no cure.” He said. “But I do not believe that. It is a disease. It can be cured.” There stirred something inside him, like a small warmth. Of determination he had once possessed, or hope. It was difficult to tell. “Thank you.” He glanced at the Argonian, extending his hand. “Please.” He received the sword from the reluctant Argonian. “Now please, show me the way out. I shall leave promptly.”

“Do return and tell me what happened.” The Count said. Valmir nodded in agreement and followed the tail of the Argonian to the outside.


End file.
